


//dear hiro

by lonelybones



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Victim Blaming, hiro is Very Bad at dealing with emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelybones/pseuds/lonelybones
Summary: After the death of his brother, Hiro needs to learn to cope. But for a genius, he really can be quite stupid sometimes.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 46





	1. //red

**Author's Note:**

> I feel obligated to mention that this fic contains a lot of unhealthy stuff. It’s something I made to vent out some old feelings, and to make room for new ones. If you’re struggling with or are triggered by anything mentioned in the tags, then this story might not be for you. And if it isn’t, that’s okay. Knowing your limits and knowing yourself is always the first step to recovery. Thank you for being here.  
> To the ones reading on: I’m sorry in advance.

The first time I saw them, it was in a convenience store. I was five years old, and I’d leaned over from behind Tadashi as we waited in line. “Miss! Miss, what happened to your arm? Did you get attacked by a cat?” I'd asked her innocently. She'd smiled and laughed it off, saying yes, it was something like that. Tadashi had pulled me behind him, apologizing profusely, a look on his face like he’d just watched me kick a puppy. She'd told him not to worry, but he did. A lot.

We had a very long talk about boundaries that night.

//

The second time I saw them, it was a mistake. I was 11, and it was a friend, another student in my grade 10 PE class who was a few years older than me. We were changing and I was _curious_ , so curious, and at the time I hadn't known what it'd meant. He'd caught me staring, but I hadn't even seen the scabs lining his arms until he'd started sputtering about them. "They... it's - it helps me calm down. When it's - w-when stuff gets overwhelming. You know?" I'd shaken my head then, because I didn’t. Missed friends from skipping grades and some bullies in the schoolyard were my only real issues at the time. And his expression had _softened_ at that, and it made my stomach churn. He'd looked away then, putting his hoodie back on. And he spoke through the saddest smile I’d ever seen. "Someday, you'll know."

And he was right.

//

The third time I saw them, it was on myself. I was 14 and Tadashi was dead. My big brother, my entire world, the only piece of me I ever felt had any real value. I was on the floor in our bathroom, eyes wet, razor in hand, thinking _this has to help, this has to help, I have to try something,_ and he was dead.

Aunt Cass thought I was getting better. She’d seen me leave earlier that day. Said she was happy to see me getting out more. First time I’d left the house in weeks and it was to buy a fucking razor to cut myself with. 

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand as I hesitated. I gripped the tiny piece of metal a little harder, and I remembered the clerk at the drug store who’d sold it to me. Her, with her mouth that said nothing and her eyes that said “aren’t you too young to be needing those?” I bit my lip and pressed the metal down, dragging it across my thigh because _yes_ , I _do_ need this, and it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad that the thoughts floating around my head all stopped dead in their tracks for a second. I flinched, and it was _ow ow ow oh fuck,_ and then it was nothing. And the thoughts came back, only slower. Thoughts like _I should’ve gotten high for this_ and _somehow I didn’t expect it to hurt that much_ . Thoughts about getting high after this instead, because that helped me to forget too. Thoughts that said _Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi_.

I pressed down again. This cut was longer, because I was ready for it, and the blood under my skin started beading through almost instantly. Silence, and then thoughts again. I’d smoked weed for the first time a few weeks after Tadashi died, after a bot fight in an alley just south of the cafe. I’d smelled it on the spectators tons of times before. It was sour, heavy and uninviting. The genius in me knew that I shouldn’t, that drugs are easy to get addicted to and that I _really shouldn’t,_ but the genius in me also knew that it would work. I hated my genius, most days. Wished I was just like everyone else. That I could fit in and that I wouldn’t have been smart enough to invent those stupid fucking microbots. That I wouldn’t have been at the showcase that day. That Tadashi wouldn’t have been there to support me. It was my fault.

I pulled some toilet paper off the roll, wiped away the blood, and kept going. Another press, another drag. Another sharp inhale through my teeth.

I threw myself into those bot fights after he died. Went to every single one I could. Came home with my legs burning every night from running back and forth across town. They were burning now, too. But it was different.

Another press down.

I remembered the moment it hit me. The realization that he was actually gone. I remembered the brick wall, cold and dirty against my face as I was pinned up against it. And the breath of the bot fighter who held me there, hell-bent on teaching me a lesson. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, with blood on my face and a boot slamming into my rib cage, and then I was cold. It was cold in the alley, and my pants were around my ankles, and Tadashi wasn’t going to skid in on his bike and save me this time. My vision blurred as I heard him spit, and then he was inside me, and I was screaming at him to stop, please stop, I’ll give you the money, and I was sobbing.

I was sobbing when I pressed down again. This cut was messier, because I was shaking now, too. Shivering so much that I dropped the razor and brought my hands up to my face as the memories came in waves, and all I wanted to do was scream. Scream that the world was unfair and it should have been me. I should be dead. It should have been me.

A few minutes later, when my hands were steady enough to pick up the razor again, I continued. And for a moment, I realized how grateful I was that I blacked out just after he’d started thrusting back in the alley. And then the gratitude passed, because I still had to remember picking myself up afterward and sneaking back home with tears in my eyes and blood in my teeth. And how no matter how many showers I took afterward I could still _feel_ him on me. How my skin crawled at that, for weeks and weeks - my bruised, discoloured skin that I kept hidden from Aunt Cass as she brought in plate after plate of food to me, three meals a day, even though she knew I’d barely touch them. I felt a wave of guilt at that. 

I pressed another cut into my thigh.

There were many things I wished I could forget. Most of all, I wished I could forget the look on Tadashi’s face the moment before he rushed back into the fire. The sea of emotions in his eyes as he turned and ran. I still felt the heat of the explosion on my face from time to time. When he died, he left a black hole in his place, and everything I knew was being sucked in because it was all _Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi_.

A toilet flushed somewhere else in the house, and reality shifted back into focus around me. There was blood running down my legs onto the floor. I had slumped back against the wall. I wiped my eyes again and cleaned up the mess, looking down at what I’d done. Nine lines, all on the left thigh. They were so crude, so angry, and they were _red._ All I felt was red.

I packed up the razor and flushed the bloody toilet paper. The doorknob was icy on my hand as I left.

Maybe I’d do better next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing a Big Hero 6 fanfiction? In 2020? It's more likely than you think


	2. //ouch

“Ow, fuck,” I cursed through my teeth. It was the next morning, and all the cuts stung as I rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over my head to drown out the light. Faintly, I heard something start to inflate from somewhere inside the room. I could almost place the noise, like I’d heard it before, and then it became the faint swish of vinyl on vinyl and I --

My eyes widened as I remembered what it was. I threw the covers off my head and sat up suddenly, thinking _no no no no, this can’t happen, I’m not ready to deal with this,_ and I dared to glance up past the edge of my bed.

And there he was. Baymax, standing in front of the screen that separated my side of the room from Tadashi’s. The screen I had pulled closed because I couldn’t stand to look in there, because it was so empty and so full at the same time. It had all his things. All our memories together. His scent still hung heavy in the air, even though it had been months since he’d…..

A black hole. _Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi._

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.” 

The robot had made it to the edge of my bed, and my brain short-circuited. I wanted to scream and run, to tell this thing to go away, that I didn’t need it, but I couldn’t. I was just frozen. Tears welled in my eyes, and the robot spoke to me.

He said, “You are crying. It is okay to cry.”

He said, “Crying is a natural response to pain.”

He said, “I will scan you now.”

He said, “Scan complete. You have nine lacerations on your upper left thigh. Recommended treatment: anti-bacterial spray and breathable bandages.”

He said, “I will treat you now,” and I couldn’t stop him. I was still in shock at this piece of my brother that stood before me, spraying and bandaging my wounds. I wanted to fight it. Say that I was satisfied with my care before he even started. But I just couldn’t. I laid back on the bed as he treated my wounds, my legs hanging off the end, tears streaming down the sides of my face. I made no sound. There was only the slow, meticulous swishing of vinyl as he bandaged my leg, and the hitching of my breath when the fabric tugged tight against my skin. It wouldn’t be much use trying to stop him mid-treatment anyway. Tadashi had explained a bunch of Baymax’s coding to me the night I met the robot for the first time, after I’d begged him to show me how it all worked. The robot stood back up, finished with my thighs.

“You are still crying. Your neurotransmitter levels are quite low.”

“I know, Baymax,” I managed. My voice sounded like I hadn’t spoken in years. My throat felt like sandpaper. I thought maybe I was going to throw up. “Kinda normal for me, these days.”

“Prolonged periods of low brain activity is often linked to clinical depression. I have five psychologists in my contact registry within 10 kilometers of here. Would you like me to schedule you an appointment?”

That surprised me. Tadashi’s work was so detailed and thorough. I sat up, combing a hand through my hair, and looked at the robot. “No, Baymax. I am satisfied with my care.”

There was a long pause - almost like a hard-coded moment of hesitation at being deactivated before he resolved the situation. But I watched as he waddled slowly back over to Tadashi’s side of the room, around his bed, and stepped onto his charging stand just out of sight. I heard him deflating slowly as I stood from my bed, grabbing my pipe and a small airtight container from my backpack at the foot of my desk. I sat down by the window and pulled it open. I switched a fan on so it’d blow the smoke outside. I just needed to get really fucking baked after that.

//

Aunt Cass found out about the weed that day.

I'd gone downstairs to the cafe, munchies as fuck, looking for some stale pastries I could take up to my room. I hadn't even realized I'd forgotten to use my makeshift sploof until my aunt was yelling at me about how I reeked. My head was spinning, and I was looking straight through her. Only bits and pieces of her rant made it through the fog in my brain.

She said, "...and you think suddenly that that's okay? To do _drugs_ , Hiro?"

She said, "I know you've been taking this whole Tadashi thing pretty hard, and I'm _trying_ to work with you here, but it’s been _months_ , Hiro, and I need you to…"

She said, "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair of me," and let out a deep sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

She said, "Are you even listening, Hiro? The rest of it. Give me whatever else you have."

I said, "Yes, Aunt Cass." And I handed over the rest of my stash.

She still dug through my room afterward. Missed the razor sitting on my desk. But found the alcohol under a blanket in my closet. That was another whole ordeal, and it hurt. Not having it taken away - I could easily buy more the next time I snuck out at night. Money isn't exactly a problem when you’re an illegal bot fight scammer. It was her _face_ that hurt. The face she gave me that said more than she ever would. Probably more than she ever wanted it to. But it was there, in her eyes. Small. But there. _You're a burden,_ it said. _Can't you do anything right? How could you be that stupid? Don’t you think about anyone but yourself?_

I felt awful for the toll my bullshit was taking on her. I remembered the first few weeks after the fire, where I couldn't get out of bed, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. She practically had to dress me herself when she’d forced me to shower every now and then. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve any of this. But I didn’t know how to stop it, and I felt worthless for it. The moment I’d let my brain wander on its own, every time, it was guilt. It was _it should have been me_ and _I should have stopped him, his arm was right there in my hand. I had him, and I let him go._ It was overwhelming and all-consuming.

A black hole. _Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi_.

//

I cut again after Aunt Cass was asleep. Pressed down, dragged across, wiped the blood away. Over and over. There was something cathartic about it, the idea that I _deserved_ this pain, and it slowed all my other thoughts down.

It was easier the second time.

Back in my room, I reached into my backpack. I didn’t want to go out tonight to stock back up after Cass’ raid. I didn’t have the energy. I pulled a crumpled cigarette out from under a pair of gloves at the bottom of the bag. It had been a gift from a dealer after I’d loaned him my lighter. “Can’t keep track of lighters these days,’ he’d said, “‘Cause everyone’s always bummin’ ‘em off me. Here, kid. Cig for the road. Y’look like you could use it.” I didn’t have any interest in cigarettes at the time, having already just bought enough weed to last me a week. But he was offering, and I didn’t want to be rude. Now it was the only thing I had left to smoke. It was bent, and had a little rip on one side. It leaked tobacco onto my floor when I held it at a certain angle. It would have to do.

I set back up by the window, fan on, sploof in hand, and lit the end. It flickered differently than joints did. I pulled. The smoke was harsh and bitter, and it tasted horrible. I almost coughed at the way it settled in my lungs, but I exhaled sharply into the toilet paper roll just before it hit me, watching the haze slip out of the dryer sheet at the other end. I scrunched my face at the aftertaste. The traffic light just outside changed, and I watched the cars crossing the intersection as I took another drag.

By the time I had burned it to the filter, my head was spinning, and I felt like my lungs were on fire. A cynical thought crossed my mind then; I wondered if I were any closer to Tadashi for it. Wondered how it must have felt for him. How it felt to burn the way he did. I put the cigarette out on the back of my hand, and that burned too.

It wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had to try my hardest not to call the cig a ‘dart’ in this chapter. You have permission to roast me for being Canadian in the comments :(


	3. //better off

There was blood in my mouth when I snuck in through the back door of the cafe. Running down my face and neck, too, staining my shirt. I was limping on one foot, trying to stay quiet, to get upstairs without Aunt Cass hearing me. 

I don’t know what prompted me to go out bot fighting again. It was the first time I’d gone since the… incident. First time I’d gone outside at all since stocking up after Aunt Cass took all my weed last month. I flicked the bathroom light on so I could assess the damage. I had the beginnings of a pretty nasty black eye, and when I took off my shirt I saw bright purple bruises blooming along my arms and my sides to match. I sighed and turned the tap on to wash my face, biting back tears at the memories that flooded in with the water. The alley that night. The realization that Tadashi can't save me anymore. I rinsed my face, jolting my senses with the cold water before my thoughts could start to spiral. 

At least no one held me down and fucked me until I cried this time.

//

The next day, it hurt even more. Everything ached, and I figured I probably looked far worse than I had the night before. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed, much less look at myself in the mirror. The first time I really even moved at all was when Cass came in with breakfast. I’d pulled the covers up over my head frantically, trying to make sure she couldn’t see any of my skin. I couldn’t even imagine how she’d react to the sight of me like this, and the last thing I needed now was even more freedom taken away. She patted my head through the covers as she left, knowing I was already awake.

I tried not to think of her. Aunt Cass, who had sacrificed so much to take care of Tadashi and I, who was torn apart at the loss of my brother just as I was, and who still managed to get up and cook for me every day. Still managed to run a business, and see her friends, and go about her life. Part of me hated her for it. Hated that she could just keep  _ living _ after him. Even though my logical side knew it was because she still had other connections to reach out to, friends and family who helped her  _ process _ and  _ grieve _ , words she’d said to me one day as she ran her hands through my hair, weakly laughing that I needed to shower soon or she’d toss me into the tub like she did with Mochi. She said getting out more would make things easier.

But it was different for me. I never had a single friend I hadn’t outgrown. Tadashi was the only person I ever really had enough time to get close to. The only person I ever felt  _ wanted _ me close. Cass was all the family I had left now, and I couldn’t talk to her about this, even if I knew how to find the words. It was the way she  _ looked _ at me, every single time something bad happened. That look of sorrow and of empathy, because she was the kind of person that felt other people’s pain and didn’t know what to do with it. It was the same look Tadashi had given me the night of the fire. It said “I’m sorry,” and it was a black hole.  _ Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi. _

It should have been me. It was a thought I had often, while I stared up at my ceiling, waiting for time to slip away and for sleep to take me again. My brother was an inventor, an innovator, a  _ good _ person with lots of friends and lots of big ideas. And I was worthless. A genius wasted being lazy and unmotivated. I hated myself so much for that, and it piled on with everything else whenever my thoughts started to spiral. I hated my voice, my body, my personality. I hated how even though I wanted to  _ be _ better, I never wanted to  _ get _ better. Because getting better meant trying, and failing, and his fucking  _ face _ whenever I did, his face that was  _ perfect _ because he was  _ perfect _ without even trying, and because nothing I could do would ever measure up to the things he did.

It should have been me.

Even now, I thought about leaving. Joining Tadashi, wherever he was now. Part of me knew that Cass would be better off for it. Losing both of us would be harder than losing just one. But right now, all I was doing was dragging her down. I was drowning in this whirlpool of emotions that I couldn’t escape from. Most days, I didn’t even know if I wanted to. And every time I saw her, I could feel it sucking her in too. She was  _ so  _ ready to move on now, to get back to a normal life. Her leg was outstretched, foot hovering, just  _ waiting _ to take that next step, and I was pulling her back. 

She’d be sad, at first, but she’d be better off.

Sometimes I thought about how easy it would be. I’d be sitting on my bed, or on my bathroom floor, razor in hand, thinking how a different line, placed  _ just right _ , could end it all. And then I’d realize how hard it was. How no matter how badly I wanted to die, how bad my skin burned and my brain screamed  _ do it, do it, do it, _ I just couldn’t. Every time I started to aim the blade, some instinct got in the way. And I’d see him. Looking at me, fire blazing behind him,  _ looking _ at me as he jerked his arm out of my hand and left me forever.

_ Tadashi, Tadashi, Tadashi. _

I slid out of bed and grabbed a new razor on my way to the bathroom.

//

“Ouch,” I said.

I was sitting on Tadashi’s bed this time, pants around my ankles, and I said  _ ouch. _ I don’t remember when I started doing it. Only that at some point, I realized it’d probably be better for scarring if I let Baymax treat my wounds after I finished cutting. So I did. Deep down, I knew it was also because I liked having the robot look after me. That it was part of my brother, one of the only real tangible pieces of him left in my life, and he would bandage my wounds and tell me everything was going to be okay. And there’d be a split second, every single time, where I’d believe him. So every time now, I’d say  _ ouch _ , and he’d inflate, and he’d say--

“Hello, I am Baymax. Your personal Healthcare companion.”

“I will scan you now.”

“You have 18 new lacerations on your thighs, and 47 more still scabbing.”

“I will treat you now.”

I nodded and scooted back on the bed to give him room to work. He started with the spray, and it stung in a familiar, comforting way. But this time, something was different. When he finished with the bandages, Baymax stood back up, raised a finger into the air and said, “I have noticed you get a lot of minor lacerations on your thighs.”

My eyes went wide, and I thought I was going to have a fucking heart attack. I thought  _ oh shit, oh fuck, _ and before I could even come up with an excuse, he continued. “May I recommend wearing thicker, more protective pants, such as jeans or joggers?”

I gaped at him for a moment. And then I started laughing. It was a chuckle at first, but it slowly turned into full-blown hysterics. I was clutching my sides, catching my breath, and wiping the wetness from my eyes when the robot asked, “What is so funny about protective pants?” And I just totally fucking lost it again. It was the first time I’d really ever laughed since Tadashi, and it was because this robot, for all its wildly complex features, still had  _ no  _ recognition that I was doing this to myself. When I regained control of my laughter, I smiled up at Baymax and told him sure, I’d try to wear more protective pants, and that I was satisfied with my care. He said he would add ‘protective pants’ to his directory of mood-lightening jokes before he started deflating, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him not to.

//

Later that night, I couldn’t get to sleep. I tossed and turned, and couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I sighed into my pillow as I pulled it against my chest, trying to pretend that it was Tadashi, and that he was still alive, and that everything would be okay. Baymax had told me so. I remembered the way Tadashi used to hold me so I could fall asleep when I had bad days at school. Just like this, with his arms around my back and his breath sifting through my hair. He used to tell me the same thing. 

_ “Everything is going to be okay,”  _ he’d say.

_ “I’m right here.” _

_ “I’ll always be here.” _

_ “I’ve got you. _ ”

I was on the brink of sleep when my phone pinged loudly on my nightstand. My cuts ached as I stretched out to reach for it. It was a video message from Tadashi’s friends at school. They’d sent two videos already over the last few months - long, cheesy things that made my heart ache with guilt. I couldn’t even bring myself to watch this one.

I blocked the sender and rolled back over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to imagine that at some point between chapters 2 and 3 that hiro and baymax still have that exchange from the movie where baymax awkwardly tries to explain puberty while hiro attempts to stuff him back into his case. that was a 10/10 moment fr


	4. //perfect crime

_ "-- a look into the destroyed new campus, and at the murder scene of Alistair Krei. There are still so many questions flooding through all of us right now — about the black flood, the portal in the sk--" _

I flipped off the TV and just sat for a moment. I was barely even listening, anyway; I just needed the background noise these days. Cars hummed outside. Aunt Cass' feet thudded on the stairs as she made her way up.

Three knocks, then she'd come in, knowing I wasn't going to get up to open the door. I wasn't going to get up for much of anything at all. Had I even gone to bed last night?

She stood next to me, palm pressed against my cheek as she swapped out the plates on my desk. She said nothing. She knew I was getting worse again. Earlier that day she'd come up just to clean the room, to take away the piles of clothes.  _ They’re bigger than I've ever seen, Hiro. I'm moving a hamper in here so you can use that instead. And the wrappers all over the floor, too - can you please  _ try _ to eat some of what I make for you? And not just junk? _

My thighs itched. I was following Aunt Cass' mouth with my eyes, thinking about when I could cut next. By now, if I wasn't already doing it, I was thinking about doing it again. 

The months had started blurring together. The drugs probably didn't help. The only timestamps I really had anymore were the sunsets and Baymax's voice, telling me I had _60, 107, 124_ _new lacerations_ on my legs. The red lines had tracked their way down almost to my knees, then started another column. Some overlapped. Those ones hurt the worst, but I liked them the best because of how long they would sting. _Might be the only thing still keeping me sane,_ I thought. 

I scratched at my scabs through my pants, looking away as Aunt Cass closed the door. The stairs went  _ thump, thump, thump, _ as she made her way down to the cafe. Tadashi smiled sadly at me from in front of the fire. A black hole.

She'd be better off without me.

I pulled down my pants and stared down at the cuts and scars, layered and ugly and  _ red _ . They looked so… angry. As angry as I  _ wished _ I felt. These past few weeks, no matter how hard I tried, I felt nothing. And it was eating me alive.

//

That night, I felt something. 

It was this welling feeling of  _ something _ . In my chest. An emotion I couldn’t describe as anything other than just that - emotion. Aunt Cass was out with friends for the night, and the feeling kept building and building. I tried to drink it down. Emptied out the last of the gin in the back of my closet. I didn’t even care that it burned, I just drank it straight. I gasped for air, chased it with some water, and tried to ignore my rising heartbeat.

It didn’t work. 

It kept getting more intense, like my body was burning up from the inside - all the emotions and memories and fear and  _ guilt _ that I’d bottled up threatening to overflow. There was a lump in my throat, and I felt like he was watching me. I smoked. A lot. Didn’t even go to the window, just sat on my bed and hit bowl after bowl to try to get it to stop. My head was spinning and my breaths were short. Everything around me felt hyperfocused and so out of focus at the same time, like looking around in a dream and seeing details but not the whole picture. The details were all him. It was a black hole, it was  _ Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi _ , and I was  _ so close _ to losing my grip. So close to getting sucked in.

I closed my eyes and clutched my bong to my chest, hyperventilating. I wanted to scream. Kick. Throw things. And as soon as I remembered that Cass was gone, I did. I launched the bong across the room, shattering it against the wall. I heard the splash of its remaining water running across the floor as I turned face down into my comforter and  _ screamed _ , yelling at the top of my lungs, things like  _ what the fuck _ and  _ why now why him why me  _ and  _ it should have been me it should have been me it should have been me. _

I was hammering my fists into the bed on either side of me. I thought I was crying. I was definitely crying. I bit it back because _I don’t deserve that,_ _I don’t deserve Aunt Cass, or this house, or anything at all. I don't deserve to sit here crying when Tadashi - Tadashi -- stopstopstop SHUT UP. SHUT. UP._

I slid my razor out of a notebook on my desk and just started slicing open my arm, right there on my bed. These would be harder to hide, and there was blood dripping onto my sheets, but neither of those things lingered in my mind for more than a second. The only thing in my brain was a desperate mantra of  _ CUT CUT CUT CUT DEEPER DEEPER,  _ and I  _ listened _ . My hand was shaky as I pressed down hard, gouging a thick line into my skin, and it felt  _ good.  _ I went again, and again. Pressed in one that said  _ worthless,  _ another that said  _ pathetic _ . One that said  _ lazy _ and one that said  _ pointless _ . My arm was searing pain and dripping blood and my brain was a black hole _. _

I needed to go. It was now or never. My face was hot and wet. I felt like I was about to throw up. I clutched the razor tighter as my voice shook and broke.

I said, “It should have been me.”

I said, “She’d be better off without me.”

I said, “Tadashi, Tadashi, Tadashi.”

I said, “I’ll go with you.”

I said, “I have to make things right.”

I went to my backpack and took out a new razor. My hands smeared blood all over the zippers. I barely even noticed. I sat on the floor, sobbing and rocking back and forth for a minute. My head swam and my arms moved and before I even knew it, it was done. A press and a drag, a long drag, and my other forearm was sliced open top to bottom, blood running rivers down my elbow and across my lap and onto my floor. The tears kept coming, and I laid back, taking in gasping, ragged breaths. The room felt like it was spinning around me. I closed my eyes and I thought of his face. Smiling sadly at me from in front of that fire. Smiling as he made the  _ one _ decision that led to all this. And I smiled back. 

I didn’t blame him. 

I loved him. 

And I was coming for him. 

In a few minutes, it would be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mental breakdowns are always tough to get right in writing. words really are an awful medium for describing something so unquantifiable, because your mind can be telling you millions of complex things in one instant, but you can only read the description of it one word at a time. i rewrote this scene a couple different ways, trying to get the overall feeling across more than anything else. i'm still not quite satisfied with how it turned out, but i'm not even sure i could find an arrangement of words that could ever fully describe what that spiral of thought feels like. also, i thought i'd add the little beginning news bit as a nod towards the fact that without hiro stopping him, callaghan probably had the time & resources to carry out his plan successfully. i imagine that he'd probably destroy the microbots afterward though, having gotten his revenge and not wanting any evidence of a high-profile murder like that left over. what do you think he'd do?


	5. //go away

The first thing I saw when I woke up was white. The white fluorescents as my eyes adjusted. The white of the ceiling tiles that came into focus around them. The white of Baymax's vinyl as he stood at the side of the hospital bed, silent and steady. My eyes trailed down him to where the white became a dark red, splattered and streaked across his arms and down his belly. Even through the fog in my brain it only took me a minute to piece it all together. _I fucked up. I fucked up and made a sound and Baymax… he… he carried_ _me here?_

My eyes continued their way down to my arm, the one with the horizontal cuts, and I saw stitches and tubes and an IV trailing under my skin and my stomach rolled over inside me. I choked, trying not to vomit as I scrunched up my face and leaned back into the pillow, breathing shallow and shaky as the pain started to hit me. My entire body ached, all the way down to the bones, and my other arm - though I couldn't dare to look at it - felt like it was on _ fire _ . A tear rolled down my cheek. I heard myself let out a weak sob. I heard the beeping of a heart monitor and footsteps in another room. I heard Baymax, and the shuffling of his feet as he stepped closer to the bed. And his voice, robotic and familiar. "You have awoken."

//

I always thought that change was harder than staying the same. That change required effort, and these days, effort came in short supply. It took me a long time to realize that sometimes, you can be putting  _ everything _ you have into staying the same, and not even notice, because deep down you’re afraid of what change might bring. I realized that now. I was lying in that hospital bed with Aunt Cass sobbing into my side as I started up at the ceiling. She was gasping so weakly every time she found the strength to inhale. She was starting new sentences before she could finish her last ones, about how she was sorry and how this was her fault and she should have known, she should have done something, that she just didn't know what to do. And she was  _ changing _ . And I couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

//

Except for one thing. It was almost a week later when they finally let me go home, and all I could think about was trying again. It was the only way I thought Cass could ever find peace. All I ever did was drag her into my mess.

Some small part of me hoped the experience of trying to kill myself would be enlightening in some way, make me realize all I had to live for, some stupid corny shit like that. But the only thing I realized after waking up still alive was how bad I really wanted to die. I was fucked. For as long as I'd live, I'd be fucked up, and it would fuck everyone around me up, and what the  _ fuck _ was the point of living if all it ever feels like is  _ this? _

I was pacing around my room, eyes darting all around, searching for something to do it with. It was the first time Aunt Cass had left me alone since getting back, and while I was still in the hospital it seemed she took the liberty of taking away every single sharp object in the  _ entire house _ . My razors, my bot tools, everything. My eyes landed on a pencil at my desk, and I seriously considered it for a moment. And then I realized that was stupid, and started for the strairs to have a look in the kitchen. She still had to have stuff for cooking.

"You are looking for something," Baymax said. He hadn't left my side since the attempt, yet somehow I didn't expect him to follow me downstairs. It'd be hard to be stealthy about this with a giant marshmallow trailing 2 feet behind me. I stopped a few steps from the bottom and turned to look at him.

"Can you wait upstairs for me? Please?" I asked.

"I can not leave you unattended when you are in a suicidal state, Hiro."

The bluntness of it hit me like a truck. "I - what?"

"My protocols for suicidal patients are to stay with them and monitor them at all times."

"Baymax, I really don't need you to do that. I'm fine now. I am satisfied with my care," I said, trying my best to make it sound convincing.

"I can not deactivate or cease monitoring without consent from your healthcare practitioner."

Well, shit. I paused for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Can you at least stay quiet while we're down here then? I would really appreciate some silence right about now."

Somehow, I managed to get into the kitchen while Cass was down in the cafe serving customers. I rooted through some of the drawers until I found an old bread knife wedged under some tupperware in a back corner. Aunt Cass probably didn't even know it was there. It was dull and disused, but it'd have to do the trick. She'd be back upstairs any minute, so I grabbed it and went back up to my room.  _ Our room _ .

_ Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi. _ I tried not to think about him.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed. I didn't really know what the plan was. I ran my fingers along the huge vertical scab on my arm, feeling the rhythmic ripple of stitches along its length. I picked up the bread knife, looking Baymax in the eyes as I pointed it at my arm, testing him.

"I will contact emergency services if you continue," he said.

Not really sure what else I expected. I sighed and tucked the knife away under my mattress, saving it for when I had a better plan. Right now my head was still swimming and I needed some sleep. I smoked a bit, thanking the universe that Cass at least hadn't found my weed again, and ducked under the covers. 

As I was trying to fall asleep, I started remembering all the doctors' appointments and therapy sessions and counselling and shit my aunt had set up for me, and I dreaded the idea of being forced through all that. I knew it wouldn't help. I cursed myself for failing on the first try. A swarm of angry thoughts ran through my head – sour, vile things like  _ fuck you Tadashi, _ and  _ how come you can die but I can't?  _ And  _ how is that fair? How is any of this fair? I just want to die, I want to die, please let me die. I need you.  _ I peeked up over the covers, and sure enough, Baymax was standing in the exact same place, staring back down at me. A black hole. _ Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi. _

Sleep came slowly that night. I only got a few hours in before my alarm went off, way too early for my brain to function, telling me it was time to get up for the psychiatrist.

It was going to be a long fucking week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter this week. im very grateful for my counsellors and therapists having worked with my schedule back when i used to visit. i know friends who had therapy super early sometimes, and what are you really expected to say about your psyche at 7am? the only thing anyone can really tell about me before 9 is that i haven't had my caffeine yet that day ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. //dear hiro

"Ouch."

Baymax cocked his head at me. I didn't need to activate him, because he was always on now, but something about the routine of it all had settled into me. I said it without even thinking.

"You have 68 new lacerations on your thighs, and 174 still scabbing."

"I know."

"I will treat you now."

And the robot got to work. I wished I could cut on my arms again, but there was no way I could keep them hidden from Aunt Cass anymore. Every time she came in with food or water now I could _feel_ her trying not to look, and every time I could watch her gaze fall down to my scars when she failed. Her face when she saw them was filled with pain. It wasn't the same as the look Tadashi gave me on the night of the fire. This was only her, and she was hurting. As the weeks went on and on it seemed like that pain never really started to fade. Every time she saw them, it was like seeing them for the first time all over again. And it was all my fault.

Baymax finished up with the treatment, and I laid back on my bed, trying to at least be thankful that I could even cut at all right now. Baymax had put up a real fight when I'd tried to explain it to him. Well, as real of a fight as you're gonna get from a giant robot marshmallow. Eventually I got him to understand that self harm wasn't the same as suicide, and to convince him to download some data on it. How that even managed to work, I still had no idea, but he'd watch me the whole time now - scanning me repeatedly as I pressed down and dragged the razor across my skin, making sure I wasn't going too deep or trying to kill myself. As I started to wonder where Baymax even downloaded his databases from, the robot spoke up unexpectedly.

"I am running low on my antibacterial spray," he said, and my whole world shifted. The idea popped into my head the second I heard those words, and I was powerless to stop it. I didn't want to stop it. This was my _chance._

"Baymax, can I see your memory card?"

//

My fingers trembled as I held the green data chip delicately, trying to slide it into my computer. "Tadashi Hamada," it said, in sharpie. _Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi._ Baymax shuffled awkwardly behind me, presumably trying to figure out what was taking me so long. He'd made an internal copy of the card to keep himself running while I "checked the code for his spray," which was the laziest excuse ever, but he let me at it, anyway. I wasn't looking for the spray. I was going to remove the suicide prevention code.

I opened the main project file and almost winced at the program that popped up. For all his genius, Tadashi coded Baymax in _C++???_ At least I knew he commented his code, or else I'd never get anywhere. And as the file loaded, there they were — little neatly indented comments at the very top, each one highlighted green and syntaxed with two slashes so the program would ignore them.

> //Personal Healthcare Companion (PHC Project Baymax) V0.7.3
> 
> //Created by Tadashi Hamada, San Fransokyo Information Technology, Robotics.
> 
> //Updated 04/08/2032

I sighed, staring at my brother's words. They were a piece of him, and the only way I managed to look away was when some more bright green code further down caught my eye. I'd meant to just search for the word suicide and get the deletion over with, but I found myself lost in these little notes and annotations, scrolling through and reading his words, almost _hearing_ his voice for the first time since he died. Most of the comments were simple labels or quick explanations of functions or objects, but every once in a while there'd be a funny one.

> //ive tried to use stacks to organize this but it just doesnt work for some reason? heap search it is! say goodbye to your precious ram!
> 
> //this line was missing a comma for the longest time and made me rewrite an entire other section of code trying to figure out what was wrong. i found you. i finally found the stupid fucking comma
> 
> //i have tested this 12 times now. this variable is never referenced by any other line in the program and i don't even remember why it's here in the first place but baymax literally won't even start without it so LEAVE IT ALONE OK

I chuckled out loud at the last one. Tadashi always kept his coding much neater than mine, but it was comforting to know that even he got lost in it sometimes. I was smiling and scrolling and reading when a particular comment block caught my eye. It read:

> //dear wasabi
> 
> //can you please figure out why this section causes an overflow? my brain is on bust right now i can't even think
> 
> //also no, you can't take all the credit for discovering that restaurant. i was the one who suggested we try someplace new in the first place. i'm standing my ground on this one. we're still 50/50 for finding good food spots. your move, meal planner.

My smile widened. I vaguely remembered Tadashi telling me something about the gang using comments inside their code as a way to pass notes to each other. I brought up the search bar to look for their names so I could read more of his notes, desperate to keep hearing his voice in my head, and I hesitated. It felt intrusive to read personal notes like this, even if it was just little nothings about their daily lives. I searched anyway.

The notes to Wasabi were all code-related questions and jokes about machinery and mechanics, with the occasional mention of food plans. Honey Lemon's notes were all answers to wildly complex questions she'd been asking Tadashi in her own code, and Fred's were just Tadashi politely shooting down his ridiculous ideas over and over. Gogo's were a little more sporadic, with topics ranging from electromagnetic physics all the way down to what he had for breakfast that morning. There were tons of results for each of them, so I was mostly just combing through them looking for interesting stuff when a thought hit me. _Did he ever talk about me to his friends?_ And before I even really processed the idea, I was already searching for my name.

My finger hovered over the enter key. Did I want to know what he said about me behind my back? Or if he even mentioned me at all? I felt sick at the thought that he might have hated me for the same reasons I hated myself. But I had to know. I pressed down on the button. There were only three results.

The first time he mentioned me was to Gogo, saying that he couldn't come out tonight because it was my 14th birthday and he was going to watch some movies with me and Aunt Cass. I remembered that night vividly. I'd asked her to make wings spicier than ever before and all of us ended up with such bad stomach aches that we only made it two movies deep before we had to call it a night.

The second time was to Honey Lemon, and he was saying that he was worried for me. That I'd been getting caught up in a lot more bot fights lately and he doesn't know what it means, and doesn't know how to talk to me about it. He asked her for some advice on how to have an honest conversation with me. I remembered almost instantly when this one took place, because he gave me the biggest lecture of all time that night. He'd thought I was getting too caught up in the scene to be able to get out, letting the stakes get too high, the list went on and on. Really, I'd just been throwing myself into the fights so I didn't have to think about a friend from school - that one friend that made all those awkward moments in the locker room and with other boys _click_ and suddenly make sense. I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to be gay. So I went out and kicked some robot ass instead. It was strange to think how small a problem that had become now in the face of everything else. I thought of Tadashi again. I wondered how he'd react, or maybe if somehow he already knew. 

I never got the chance to tell him.

The third search result took me into another tab of code, and it caught me by surprise. It was the Suicide Prevention Protocol tab, and my name wasn't mentioned in the comment.

The note itself was addressed to me.

> //dear hiro
> 
> //this section is dedicated to you. 
> 
> //i know you were too young to really remember mom and dad. i'm not sure how much of the aftermath you remember, either, but i got into a pretty rough place afterward. 
> 
> //we kept you in the dark about the therapy and medications because you were too young to really understand, but even with all the outside help, you were probably the most important thing keeping me sane. 
> 
> //i modeled a lot of baymax's code to help others the way you helped me. and for how i'd want to be there for you if you ever went through the same thing. 
> 
> //you got me through one of the roughest parts of my life without even knowing, and i'll always owe you for that.
> 
> //ok this is getting sappy. i swear i didnt mean to. you have my permission to make fun of me for this later.

By the time I reached that point there were rivers of silent tears pouring down my face. My eyes stung and I hiccuped a few times, trying to hold it together long enough to finish reading. Baymax leaned down from behind my chair and put his arms around me in an awkward hug, turning on his heaters to comfort me. The green text was blurry and warped on the screen as I blinked the tears away, desperate to read the rest of what he had to say.

> //also if youre reading this that probably means that you finally came to your senses and joined nerd school, so joke's on you, really.
> 
> //i cant wait to see what kinds of stuff youre gonna make
> 
> //love you bro

And I was lost in it. It was a black hole, it was _Tadashi Tadashi Tadashi_ , and it was this fire – the fire that burned me up from the inside out ever since he left, roaring and crackling and fighting me every step of the way. I could feel its sparks shooting through my body as I was swept up from my chair into Baymax's arms. I sobbed into him, clutching at his vinyl and desperately wishing that it really was my brother. Maybe I even pretended it was, for a moment.

Then Baymax spoke up.

He said, "Your neurotransmitter levels indicate you are experiencing high levels of distress."

He said, "It is okay to cry."

He said, "Everything is going to be alright."

"B-but Tadashi… he…" was all I could muster in response.

Baymax said, "Tadashi is here."

I said, "No, Baymax, he’s not--"

"Tadashi is here."

And my whole world shifted again as the light of the robot's screen pierced my eyes. I rubbed the wetness away, and I saw him. It was a black hole. It was my brother. It was my best friend. And he was _smiling_ at me, the way he always used to. And then the still image became a video.

He said, "This is Tadashi Hamada. And this is the first test of my robotics project.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tadashi’s commented note to hiro is the part of this story i got hung up on for the longest. not in terms of rewriting it a bunch of times or anything, just that i almost didn’t know where to start. it took me a long time to really grasp what i was going for with it, and then it became a struggle of trying to make it emotional, yet still sounding like something you could just toss into your code at the top of a file. speaking of which, i meant no offense to my C++ pals this chapter. hiro just feels like he’d be a fancy new-age python programmer who gags every time he looks at anything else. also there was no way i was writing a bh6 fic and not including the parallel of tadashi’s video-watching scene from the movie. i rewatched it to make sure i had the right dialogue while finishing off this chapter and got to re-experience what an incredible & emotional scene that is. hiro deserves the world.


	7. //epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it. this fic was brewing for a long time in my head before i finally got the urge to just get it done. it was a very experimental work for me, and though it isn't that long, i did learn quite a bit from making it. this isn't a 1:1 depiction of my real-life story, nor is it yours, but i hope the parts that resonate with you are healing, just like they are for me. thank you to everyone who's been reading and commenting – it means the world to me. i hope you enjoy this last chapter, and that your story takes a turn for the better soon too.

Something in me broke that night. So many thoughts were racing through my head that I couldn't make sense of most of them, but a few words from a therapist managed to push through the fray. “If you don’t want to get better, you won’t. If you don’t want me to help you, then I can’t.”

Something else in me was fixed that night. I decided in that moment, in the warmth of Baymax's arms, that I wanted to get better. I wanted to be helped. I wanted to be the person Tadashi wanted me to be. I was sitting there, staring into the pixels that made up his face, and for the first time since his death I wasn't running from the black hole. I was letting it in. Making it a home in my heart and promising that someday - somehow - I'd learn to control it. But I had no idea where to start. I was almost constantly high and couldn't go more than a few days without cutting. Most days I could barely even leave my room. I was still terrified of trying because I was terrified of failing. I felt trapped like that for a very long time, but I knew what I had to do. Baby steps can get you a lot farther than you might imagine.

My inner monologue is cut off as Fred grabs my shoulder, waving his other hand in front of him in a grand gesture.

"And that's how we make a real-life dragon. Right, Hiro? Hiro. Come on, please don't tell me you were getting all spacey on me during my awesome idea," he says.

I can see the rest of the gang smirking at me from around the table as I blink my way back to reality. I manage to force a smile back at him. "Oops?"

"Don't 'oops' me, mister. How are you gonna back me up on fire-breathing reptile-making if you don't even hear me out?"

"Okay, okay," I say, "One more time. From the top. I'm listening now."

Fred's eyes light back up again as he launches himself back into explaining a mating scheme to breed dragons that's as graphic as it is unrealistic. Wasabi lets out a groan. Honey lemon puts her face in her hands, and Gogo looks like she's trying to glare at me but can't seem to keep a straight face. Fred starts drawing out a diagram of a bearded dragon's penises on a napkin. 

Luckily for all of us, his ideas are cut short by some clapping and singing that starts to approach from the other side of the restaurant. By the time I notice the waitstaff making a beeline for me, it's already too late to escape. They're chanting 'happy birthday' at me and clapping loudly as they place a small cake with a sparkler on it next to my plate. Almost the entire restaurant is looking now, and I'm blushing so hard that I wonder if I've popped a blood vessel. Gogo is smiling at me widely table now, and I kick at her feet under the table. She just shrugs playfully. I'd told everyone I just wanted to have a low key birthday this year, but that was probably what gave them this idea. Traitors.

When the song is finally over, Honey Lemon speaks up. "Make a wish, Hiro! Before the sparkler goes out!"

I play along, even though I'm still embarrassed about the singing, because my friends  _ were _ nice enough to take me out for dinner tonight. I close my eyes and think of a wish. It takes me a minute, but I open my eyes just before the sparkler goes out and the waitstaff all cheer, clapping as they make their way back to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna kill all of you," I say.

Gogo snorts a laugh as Honey Lemon speaks up. "What did you wish for, Hiro?"

"Oh! Yeah! 10 second rule!" Fred chimes in, and everyone shoots confused looks at him.

"Fred, that's the 5 second rule, and it's for eating food off the floor. Not for birthday wishes," I say. "Besides, you always keep your wish a secret. Everyone knows it's bad luck to share."

"Not with a 10 second rule," mumbles Fred.

Wasabi just sighs. "When we get outta here, remind me to make some friends who don't eat off the floor."

And we all laugh. We keep chatting for a good while at the table, long enough that our waitress starts shooting us looks as she refills our water every now and then. I'm barely picking at my cake, full from dinner and already all caked out from Aunt Cass earlier today. She baked this giant monstrosity of a cake, decorated with all these swirls and strawberries and 17 perfectly arranged candles. She always goes all out for birthdays. As dinner wraps up, we make our way to the bowling alley just down the street, with Fred still begging us to listen to his breeding plan the whole way to the door.

"You guys go ahead, I'm gonna have a quick smoke before I head in," I say, taking a step away from the front of the building and lighting up a cig. 

Honey Lemon always shoots me the same motherly look every time I smoke. I glance away from her gaze apologetically as I light up. Gogo catches on and leads her inside, throwing a retort over her shoulder before disappearing through the doorway: "You can only delay the ass-whooping so long, Hiro. Real smoke's in here on lane 6."

I shake my head and smile into the cigarette as I take a long drag. I stand above a puddle in the pavement, watching the smoke curl out from my reflection's mouth, thinking of the brother I wished could be here for my birthday. I'd tell him about how SFIT was going for me, about all the progress I'd made on Baymax, and all these plans I'm making for the future. Tadashi would be proud of me. I know that for sure. 

He still haunts me from time to time, though it's more comforting than anything else now. Sometimes it's a smell, or a stray thought. More often than not, it's mirrors. 

I'm starting to look like him.

"Hiro! Come on!" I hear Wasabi's voice shout from the door.

"Coming!"

I hadn't even noticed the time passing. I stick what's left of the filter into a little wall-mounted ashtray on the side of the building and start to make my way inside. Tadashi would probably hate my smoking just as much as the others, but it's the one thing I have left. 

I'm slowly knocking out my bad habits, one by one. There are good days and bad days. Days where I forget I even want to cut, and days where it takes every ounce of strength I have not to relapse.

Days when I do relapse. 

And I'm slowly learning that that's okay. 

That progress isn't as linear as it looks from the outside. 

That I'm trying. 

And that's all that matters.


End file.
